Chain-Ritters [Jan Short Story, Audio, Written]

Hey peeps!

Chain-ritters are creatures I was secretly putting in the second Bestiary (think of them like a corrupted-magic version of knightmares) but I liked them so much I decided to make a random short story about them being spooky.

Brian Wiggins reads.

It's a darker fantasy, but I also like the setup. Let me know if you'd want to see it continue.

Shami

Chain-Ritters

            The flowers were beautiful, the wind gentle, and the woods around our village basked in the vitality of spring…

            But the sunset smelled of blood.

            I crouched low behind a mulberry bush, my breathing shallow and deliberate. My ears strained for the telltale rustle of movement. What had once been a game of laughter and squeals felt stretched too thin, the fading daylight casting long, ominous shadows over the forest floor. We had begun hide-n-seek with ten players. As the sun slipped lower, there were only three of us left.

            “I found you, Fyxen!”

            My neighbor, Kariel, jumped around the bush and smiled. She was small for her age, but she moved like an energetic sprite. Whereas everyone else eventually grew tired, her stamina seemed to flow from a never-ending wellspring. She had just turned twelve, yet most people in the village still thought she was younger than ten.

            I stood, brushing leaves from my tunic. As I walked around the mulberry bush, my unease followed me like a shadow. The coppery tang in the air clung to my senses, a presence that refused to be ignored.

            “It’s almost dark,” I said. “We should head back to the village.”

            Kariel offered me an exaggerated pout. “But we’re having fun.” She spun on one heel, her smile returning.

            “We can keep playing—just behind the safety of the walls.”

            “Everyone always gets annoyed when they see us playing.” Kariel paced around me, and then lowered her voice to mimic the tone of the adults. “If you have time to frolic then you have time to do more chores. Take this broom.”

            Her impression of her mother was spot-on, and I would’ve laughed if the unease in my chest wasn’t so thick.

            Kariel must’ve understood from my expression that I was serious. She stopped pacing, met my gaze, and then nodded once. “Okay, Fyxen. Okay. Let’s just find Lazul and head back.”

            “Thank you,” I muttered.

            She smacked my shoulder. “But I reserve the right to tease you about being afraid of the dark.”

            “It’s not the darkness that makes me uneasy. There are creatures that only hunt at night.”

            “Our parents only tell stories about monsters to scare us into behaving. You’re doing exactly what they want by heading into the village at sunset.”

            If they were only tales, why go through the trouble of building ten-foot-tall walls? I was just twelve years old, yet I felt the fear in people’s voices when they warned us about the world. Terrible things lurked in the shadows. I may not have seen them, but I knew they were there.

            We walked along a dirt path worn into the forest floor by local trappers. Kariel skipped most of the time, carefree and unbothered by the scent on the air. It made me think only I could smell the unsettling odor.

            Lazul always won hide-n-seek. He was the kind of boy who climbed the tallest trees or took the time to dig a hole and cover himself in dirt. His dedication to the game was almost awe inspiring.

            We were the same age, yet he had always been so much cleverer at every turn. He wasn’t the strongest, but he was the trickiest.

            The sun slipped further behind the trees. The chill of night crept in uninvited. I shivered, my panic rising. Every tall oak tree seemed ominous, and the knots in their trunks resembled eyes. I wanted nothing more than to return home. Every step forward was a test of my willpower.

            Where was Lazul? I glanced around, searching for any sign of human life. I saw nothing.

            “We should call for him,” I whispered.

            Kariel shrugged. “Okay, but you should do it. I don’t want him to think I gave up.” She pumped her arm. “Because I never give up! Not even Lazul can hide from me.”

            “Lazul!” I shouted, both hands cupped around my mouth. “The game is over! We’re returning to the village!”

            He didn’t answer.

            What a fool he was. Did he not see how late it had gotten, how the edges of dusk crept closer with every breath of wind?

            “You’ve won the game!” I called out, more insistent. “There’s no reason to hide anymore!”

            Above us, the branches of a towering tree trembled, their leaves shivering free and fluttering to the ground.

            Then a figure dropped from the canopy, landing on the path in front of us with a muted thud. Lazul stood straight, a strange creature of his own making, his clothes adorned with leaves and twigs. He had woven branches into his tunic and stuffed his trousers with shrubbery, transforming himself into a living piece of the forest.

            Even though he had been right above us, I hadn’t seen him at all.

            Kariel gasped, her wide-eyed expression torn between admiration and indignation. “I knew you were going to do something like this! I knew it.”

            “You didn’t find me, though,” Lazul said with a laugh. “You called the game off. That makes me the winner.”

            “Fyxen was the one who ended the game, not me! So that means you only technically won.”

            “Technical victories are the best victories.” Lazul ripped the branches and leaves from his tunic, tossing them to the ground with a proud grin. “Why’d you call it anyway? Is something wrong? Today has been one of the best chore-free days ever.”

            “We should get back to the safety of the village,” I said. “Please.”

            “Yeah, okay, don’t get dramatic. Let’s go.”

            The clank of metal on metal echoed in the darkness. I whirled on my heel, my heart pounding. Was someone there?

            Another clank and my legs threatened to buckle. Something was close. The silence that followed was almost too much to bear.

            “What was that?” Kariel asked.

            Then, with a snap as sharp as a breaking branch, a rusted spear shot out of the darkness, a chain attached to the end like it was a harpoon.

            The weapon whistled through the air and then pierced through Lazul’s chest with a sickening crunch as his bones were sundered. He fell forward from the force of the powerful blow. A crimson explosion followed, blood splattering in a grotesque arc across the dirt road—and my tunic. Bright red gore splashed against the rough bark of the oak trees, dripping down like they were the forest’s ancient wounds.

            The warmth of Lazul’s blood…

            It shook me.

            I almost dropped to my knees.

            Lazul had never stood a chance—he just hit the ground, eyes wide, legs twitching. He was still alive, but in shock. How long would he last? No one could survive for long with a spear through the center of their chest.

            Kariel shivered, her breath catching in her throat, but there was no escape from the carnage. Lazul’s sticky, wet blood painted her dress, dark streaks marring the once-bright fabric. A single splatter struck her cheek, trailing downward.

            She stood rooted in place, her small hands trembling, her face pale beneath the grotesque red smear. Her lips parted in a soft, shocked breath that failed to find words. The spear quivered, Lazul impaled upon it like a macabre trophy, his skewered body sagging.

            The chain on the end of the spear grew taut.

            Something emerged from the gloom, pulling on the chain, dragging Lazul across the ground.

            It was a hollow suit of metal armor standing as tall as a fully grown man. It moved with a purpose that defied the laws of nature. Rust marred every surface of its armor, like dried blood. The plates were uneven, bent in places where blows had struck true long ago. Its helmet had a single hole dead in the center of the face giving it a monstrous, inhuman visage.

            There was nothing but darkness in that helmet.

            It bore no crest, no sigil, no insignia to claim allegiance or purpose… but I knew what it was. My grandmother had spun tales about this monster, and how it hungered for human flesh.

            It was a chain-ritter.

            A creature that sustained itself on blood and only hunted at night. I hadn’t thought they were real, but now…

            The chain-ritter pulled Lazul closer and closer, coiling the chain around its right gauntlet as it did so. The monster moved without haste, slow and steady, each movement creating an unholy creak from the hinges of its limbs that echoed in the woods.

            The air around us grew colder, as though the very world was recoiling from the chain-ritter’s presence.

            The monster bent forward. Its gauntleted hand had sharp fingertips, like knives. It cut up Lazul’s body, and then with unnatural grace, carved out organs. The tearing sounds as the chain-ritter scooped up a bloody mass made my stomach twist.

            Why wasn’t I running?

            I could barely do anything but register the horror before me.

            The chain-ritter took the organ and then slid it through the gaping hole in its helmet. The body part fell through the armor and hit the “bottom” of the torso with a wet splat. Then the chain-ritter “ate” another piece of Lazul, and another. Each fleshy mass fell into its body.

            But Lazul’s wouldn’t be enough to fill it.

            “W-We have to go,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I slowly pulled myself from my terrified daze.

            Kariel didn’t answer. She stared, unblinking, at the monster. She didn’t breathe. She couldn’t.

            I forced myself to move. I stepped close to her, grabbed her shoulder. “C’mon.”

            When she didn’t move, I knew I had to do something drastic. I slapped her across the cheek, my palm stinging afterward from the effort. Kariel, shaken, took a step back, but she was no longer transfixed in place.

            “Hurry!” I grabbed her arm and ran.

            Kariel ran alongside me, her breathing shallow.

            The woods were completely different at night. The trees seemed shorter, their canopy of leaves closer to our heads. My imagination played tricks on me, and I imagined another chain-ritter would leap down on us at any second. I couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

            Kariel never grew tired, nor did she slow. We kept our frantic pace.

            We were almost home. Just a little farther.

            We couldn’t slow until we were there. We couldn’t.

            Through my panic, I heard another clank from the darkness. My body acted on its own. I leapt for Kariel, crashing into her and throwing both of us to the ground.

            The chain-ritter’s harpoon whistled through the air inches above us. It smashed into a tree, splintering the bark and skewering the trunk.

            If I hadn’t jumped on Kariel, the harpoon would’ve gone right through her…

            “This can’t be happening,” she murmured beneath me, her voice shaky. “This can’t be…”

            The chain-ritter stepped out of the darkness between trees, its hinges grinding as it walked over to retrieve its harpoon. The monster’s long chain dragged on the ground, as it was attached to its arm as well as the rusted weapon.

            I jumped to my feet, my vision darkening at the edges from fear.

            The city walls! The glorious walls made of stone, cement and metal beams! I saw them. They weren’t far. Two men stood on top of the wall, each holding a lantern high above their heads. They carried weapons—spears and knives—and relief washed through me.

            We were so close! Maybe just thirty feet away!

            “Help!” I shouted. “We need help!”

            “Is that Fyxen?” one man asked as he managed to spot me through the gloom.

            The other man nodded and pointed. “That sure is!”

            “We need help!” I screamed.

            One man threw a rope ladder down and then frantically motioned to me.

            When I turned, I realized Kariel still hadn’t stood. I grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her to her feet, but she couldn’t stand. Her ankle twisted underneath her weight and she fell back to the ground.

            “F-Fyxen,” she breathed. “I’m so scared.”

            The chain-ritter yanked its harpoon from the tree, shattering more of the trunk with its power. Then the monster turned its blood-stained helmet in our direction.

            “Help!” I shouted again, my heart hammering so hard it threatened to break my very ribcage to escape.

            But the men on the wall didn’t move. They stood there, watching, waiting. Weren’t they going to help us? Didn’t they see the monster? Why weren’t they moving?

            I grabbed Kariel’s arm and dragged her as fast as I could. I wasn’t big, I wasn’t an adult—if the men had just come down the ladder, they could’ve carried Kariel easily!

            “Hold on, hold on,” I said. “We’re almost there!”

            The creak and clank of the chain-ritter grew faster. It was chasing me. It was gaining on me. I couldn’t turn to look at it. I couldn’t. I had to run. Had to get to the wall.

            I grabbed the rope ladder, desperate to get up, but I wasn’t strong enough to just haul Kariel up on my shoulders.

            But it was as if Lazul and his cleverness were here to guide my panicked thoughts because I grabbed the rope, lassoed it around my arm and then quickly tied it around Kariel’s. We could be pulled up together!

            The men on the wall pulled on the rope.

            But the whistle of the chain-ritter’s harpoon was the only warning I got and it wasn’t enough. The weapon pierced Kariel and then slammed into the rocks of the wall, pinning her there.

            “No!”

            The men pulled faster, and I was lifted higher and higher, away from Kariel, away from the chain-ritter. Kariel’s arm was pulled to the point it almost came off her body, but instead, the rope tied to her eventually slipped off, taking a layer of skin with it.

            I struggled, trying to untie myself, but I was on top of the wall before I could do it. Thrashing about, I attempted to leap off the wall—anything to get back to her—but the men grabbed me and held me down.

            “You’re safe, you’re safe,” one shouted.

            “You made it, Fyxen,” the other said.

            “No!” Was all I could shout.

            “You need to calm down!”

            No, no, no!

            “Go down and kill it,” I shouted, finally able to form proper sentences. “The monster is right there! Kariel is right there!”

            But they just kept hold of me. They held me down harder than before.

            It took several minutes of fighting against them before I was too exhausted to move. I just lay on top of the wall, staring at the dark sky above. The two men eventually got off my arms, both of them muttering pleasant sentiments.

            “I can’t believe you made it,” the first said.

            “I haven’t seen a chain-ritter so close to the city before,” the second interjected. “The world is getting worse out there. So terrible.”

            Their voices, their words—I hated everything about them. My lips were cracked from gulping down air through my mouth, and my head hurt from the painful thoughts that invaded my mind, but I didn’t care.

            “You did nothing,” I managed to mutter. “You did nothing.”

            “You can’t fight chain-ritters,” the first man said, placing his lantern next to me. “They’re monsters of might and magic. You saw it. You saw what it did. You can’t kill them.”

            The second man nodded. “You can’t.”

            “Best to stay in the village at night for this exact reason. You kids never should’ve been out there. It’s your own damn fault.”

            “You had weapons,” I whispered.

            Why even have them if they aren’t going to use them? Why even stand watch on the wall if they’re going to do nothing?

            The two men shook their heads and repeated it was useless. They kept telling me I was lucky, I should be thankful, they did the right thing by staying on the wall.

            But nothing they said convinced me.

            Why had they done nothing?

***

            The next two days, I barely felt anything.

            The village… They hardly spoke of Kariel and Lazul. They were all happy I managed to escape the chain-ritter, and the elders gave a long speech about how they have rules about night travel for a reason. A funeral would be held for Kariel and Lazul, but there were no cries for revenge, no plans to get rid of the chain-ritter.

            We had to stay safe in our town. Behind the walls. That was how we would avoid the monsters.

            There was a weight that refused to leave me, a leaden thing lodged deep in my chest, heavy as iron and just as cold. Each breath felt stolen, as if I were taking air meant for another. Kariel’s and Lazul’s faces haunted me—not in the screaming, clawing way of nightmares, but in the quiet persistence of memory.

            They hovered in every shadow, lingered in every silence, their eyes always asking the same question: Why you?

            And I couldn’t answer them.

            Lazul had been cleverer than me.

            Kariel had been faster.

            Why had I lived?

            Each time I tried to eat, the food turned to ash in my mouth. Each sip of water felt like a betrayal, a reminder that my friends would never drink again.

            I replayed it all in endless loops, as if by turning the memory over and over I could unearth the moment it should have been me. Was it the timing? The hesitation? What if Lazul had just stayed hidden in the tree? Would he have avoided the chain-ritter’s detection?

            Could I have done something to save everyone? Why was I so weak?

            And the villagers… The guards on the wall…

            They didn’t feel this guilt. I saw them yesterday, laughing and drinking at the tavern. They didn’t care. They were content to be cowards. Content to have saved themselves.

            Everyone in town praised me for running. Praised me for getting to the wall.

            The unfairness of it all burned like a branding iron, searing itself into the fabric of who I had become.

            The door to my bedroom creaked open and a sliver of light pierced through the gloom, stretching across the floor until it shone over me. My mother stepped inside, carrying a bowl of warm soup. She placed the food on the stand next to my bed and then sat on the mattress next to me.

            “I’m so glad you made it home,” my mother said as she gently caressed my shoulder. “I count my lucky stars every day.”

            Her words were as hollow as the chain-ritter. How could she be happy after what had happened?

            “Why didn’t anyone do anything?” I asked, my voice rusty. “Why did they just stand there and let the chain-ritter get Kariel?”

            My mother had to think about this question for a prolonged moment before she replied. “They did do something. They built a wall around the village. They set curfews.”

            “That’s not doing something about the problem.” I sat up, my anger burning so much it hurt. “That’s just avoiding the problem. They could’ve done something more! We could rid the forest of chain-ritters—of all monsters. Hiding inside our village does nothing.”

            “And what would you have them do?” she asked, her voice low and sharp. “March out into the woods with their kitchen knives and fire pokers? You think bravery alone will undo centuries of curses and darkness?”

            I didn’t know what to say. Anything felt better than nothing.

            “We build walls, we set curfews, we mourn, and we hold on to what we can.” My mother’s voice cracked, and for a moment, she appeared far older. “Because the people in this village—all of us—have others who rely on us, who need us to survive. As long as we have each other, the monsters can have the darkness.”

            She rubbed her face, and I realized she was crying.

            “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered. “Please just be happy that you’re alive.”

            I wanted to argue, to shout that it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough. But my mother’s tears, the raw ache in her voice, silenced me.

            Her fingers brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear as though I were still a small child. “Don’t let anger turn you into another name we mourn.”

            There was nothing left for me to say. My mother didn’t care about Kariel and Lazul, and that their mothers would never recover from this pain. She was just happy her child hadn’t been the one taken.

            My mother leaned forward and kissed my forehead, her tears brushing my skin.

            “Eat your soup,” she whispered, standing and walking to the door.

            She left in silence.

            I knew I couldn’t go on living like this. Sooner or later, I would convince myself to join Kariel and Lazul. No, I didn’t want that. I wanted justice. My village—my own people—didn’t want that.

            So, in the quiet of night, I packed a backpack, my hands shaking.

            Right before the dawn, I took my family’s woodcutting axe and then slipped out of the village.

***

            I walked the trapper’s path, the familiar crunch of its packed dirt underfoot fading as I ventured deeper into the forest than I had ever dared. The trees grew closer together here, their gnarled branches entwining like grasping fingers. The sunlight barely filtered through, casting shifting shadows that seemed to follow me, whispering in the wind.

            The first stain of blood marked the ground where I had seen the chain-ritter. A dark pool, almost black in the dim light, clung stubbornly to the earth, refusing to fade even after the passage of days. I looked away quickly, though the image of Lazul—how he had been—flashed in my mind, vivid and sharp.

            I gritted my teeth and pressed on, clutching my resolve as tightly as the axe in my hand.

            The monster’s trail was easy to follow, though it led me further from any hint of civilization. Crimson smears and bent twigs painted a grim path, one I could not mistake. I stepped over roots slick with dew and avoided the soft patches of moss that invited me to stumble.

            Far from civilization, the world smelled crisp, but the musk of beasts and monsters lingered at the edge of my senses.

            I walked all day, driven by purpose—or perhaps something darker. The thought of stopping, of resting, seemed unthinkable, though my legs ached and my hands trembled with fatigue. When hunger gnawed at me, I paused only long enough to choke down a piece of bread, my axe never leaving my grasp.

            When the sun began its descent, I knew I was close.

            The air stank of blood.

            Whatever fear I harbored was swallowed by a grim determination that carried me forward into the deepening dark. I shoved my way through thick bushes and heard a calm river up ahead.

            When I finally emerged from the twisted shrubbery, I caught my breath.

            There it was.

            The chain-ritter.

            The shock of finding it almost caused me to stumble. The haunted suit of armor stood on the bank of the river, its nightmarish helmet gazing out over the water. It held its harpoon-like spear in one gauntlet, the chain dangling down and half resting in the dirt. The rust on its body prevented the moonlight from glistening off the metal of its frame.

            I threw off my backpack. My hands shook as I gripped the axe with both hands.

            “Die, you monster!” I shouted as I lunged forward.

            The chain-ritter shifted to turn, the hole in the middle of its helmet a disturbing reminder of where it consumed all its “food.”

            I swung with literally all my weight, all my strength—the arc of my blow so telegraphed, a corpse could’ve had time to dodge.

            But the chain-ritter didn’t move. I struck the monster in the middle of its plate armor torso. The resulting clang and echoing rumble through its dark body shook the nearby area. My arms hurt from the effort—a backlash tremor went straight up my limbs and even stung my shoulders.

            I stumbled around the creature, my breathing already labored.

            My blow had dented it. Slightly. And it had also chipped my axe.

            After a moment, where I regained my footing and determination, I swung again. It was just as reckless, just as wild. I struck the chain-ritter again, this time on the other side of its torso. Another clang and this time the axe slipped a little in my hands, taking a layer of skin from my palms.

            I jumped back, firmed up my grip, and realized my vision was blurring from tears. I angrily wiped them away with the back of my hands.

            “I’m going to kill you,” I said through gritted teeth, my throat on the verge of closing due to raw anger.

            The chain-ritter didn’t move. It “stared” at me with its hole-helmet, disturbing and inhuman.

            I swung a third time, putting everything I had into the blow, and even aiming for the creature’s arm. But the chain-ritter moved right before I landed my strike. With supernatural speed, and unholy strength, it grabbed my axe, blade first, then ripped my weapon from my bleeding hands.

            I stutter-stepped forward, shocked and off balance.

            This was it. I had no weapon, and I was all alone, far from my village.

            I was finally going to get the death I deserved.

            With my axe in hand, the chain-ritter slowly turned to face the river once more. The monster threw the axe out into the water. My weapon splooshed and then sank to the bottom. The ripples lasted until the shore, the river was that calm.

            Then the chain-ritter just stood there. It still had its chain and its rusted harpoon, but it made no move to use them.

            Hot tears streamed down my face. It took me a solid minute to realize the beast wasn’t attacking. What was… What was I supposed to do now?

            I glanced around until I spotted a branch on the ground. I ran over, pulled the leaves and twigs away, and then lifted it up like a club. It didn’t matter what I had to do—either I was going to kill this chain-ritter or it was going to kill me.

            With its back turned to me, I launched myself at it. I swung the branch and struck the chain-ritter in the back of the legs. Could I drown it? If I managed to knock it into the water, I would find out.

            The bong from my strike sounded throughout the woods. It was like I had hit a terrible drum and the sounds hurt my ears. I pushed the agony aside and hit the legs again. And again. Gong. Bong. Thunk. My tree branch wasn’t even denting it like my axe had, but I continued my assault regardless.

            “Die!” I screamed. “You’re a monster! A disgusting nightmare!”

            Bang. Bong.

            Every strike rattled my arms. I was injuring myself faster than I was even annoying the chain-ritter, but I wouldn’t stop for anything. I’d find a weak spot. I’d break its hinges, its weapons, its helmet. I wouldn’t stop until Kariel and Lazul were satisfied with the results.

            The chain-ritter once again turned, its movements sharp. It grabbed my branch, ripped it from my grasp, and then bashed me with the side of its gauntlet.

            I hit the ground on my back, the wind knocked from my lungs. Shaken, I just lay there, the ice in my veins freezing me in place.

            The chain-ritter threw my branch into the river as well. It landed with a softer sploosh and then floated on top of the water.

            Again, I was ready for death. It was the most logical outcome.

            But the chain-ritter didn’t ready its weapon. It turned and walked along the bank of the river, no hurry in its steps, its moves squeaking and clanking as the metal hit metal. Its chain was dragged through the dirt, leaving an odd trail.

            The monster went a good fifty steps before I gathered the courage to stand again. Still confused and shaken, I grabbed my backpack and then ran after it. After all, I had made a promise to myself. Either I died, or it did.

            When I caught up to the beast, I hesitated. I needed a new weapon. But what?

            I spotted rocks on the side of the river. I grabbed one and flung it as hard as I could.

            Clang. The rock bounced off the chain-ritter’s shoulder and then ricocheted off into the river. The monster didn’t notice, didn’t care. It picked up its pace and then headed off into the woods.

            “I’m going to kill you,” I said as I jogged after it. “I’m not going to stop until you’re nothing but ash!”

            My voice carried through the eerily silent woods. The chain-ritter never acknowledged me. Could it hear? It didn’t seem to have ears.

            I kept its pace, dogging it more than a shadow. The clank of its steps sent shivers down my spine. I pictured Lazul, and how quickly his death had come. The chain-ritter could turn around and end me at any second.

            Yet, it didn’t.

            “You’re not invincible,” I shouted at the back of the chain-ritter’s helmet. “I’ll find something that hurts you. I swear it!”

            The monster stomped through the woods, the moon overhead offering light that streamed down through the leaves. It continued forward, and so did I. When it turned, I followed, my heart pounding, my feet hurting.

            All through the night, the chain-ritter marched.

            Where was it going?

            I just pursued it, my mind only on its destruction.

***

            The morning arrived on the back of a chill wind, biting through my resolve but never quite extinguishing it. The chain-ritter exited the woods and turned its path toward the mountains. Each step it took was deliberate, unhurried, as if the jagged rocks beneath its feet were mere inconveniences.

            My hands, raw and blistered, trembled as I clung to the trail it left behind.

            “I’m never going to quit,” I shouted, though my voice seemed small against the vast, indifferent expanse. “Never.”

            The chain-ritter gave no sign it had heard me. It simply climbed, its movement disturbingly fluid for something so monstrous. It left the well-worn paths of man behind, ascending rocky slopes with a grace that mocked its grotesque form. I followed, my limbs protesting each scramble and stumble, my will the only thing keeping me upright.

            The sun rose higher, spreading its warmth over the desolation and sparking a flicker of hope in my chest. What if I could kill it here, in this barren place? What if I drove it off the edge of the mountain and watched it tumble to a deserved end?

            But the mountain was not kind.

            The chain-ritter scaled a jagged slope with ease, and I followed, clumsier by far. My foot slipped on loose gravel, and I clawed at the rock face, desperate to stop my fall. My fingernails caught on sharp edges, and one ripped clean away. The pain was immediate and bright, a fiery brand across my senses. A smear of blood marred the gray stone, vivid and warm against the cold rock.

            I swallowed down a sob that threatened to escape. With trembling limbs and a resolve that felt far too fragile, I hauled myself back onto the path.

            At the top of the slope, I paused, breathing hard. The chain-ritter was ahead, moving more cautiously now. It picked its path with care, as if even it feared the treacherous rocks. I stared at its retreating figure, trying to decipher its purpose. Where was it going? What did it hope to find?

            Since I had a short moment to catch my breath, I tugged open my backpack, withdrew a crust of bread, and ate it so fast I didn’t even taste how stale it was. Hunger was a dull ache, easily ignored, unlike the sharp, insistent throb of my bloodied hand. I wrapped it quickly with a handkerchief, tying the knot with my teeth.

            A growl and the clatter of pebbles drew my attention to a scene not far from me.

            Atop a flat plateau of dirt and rocks, a red fox was busy digging and scratching at an odd hole. It drove its muzzle into the den and pulled a creature out by its back legs.

            A mountain pika.

            Pikas were a large mouse that resembled a rabbit in many ways, but their ears were rounded and their fur tawny. Pikas were fat little rodents that lacked the powerful legs and claws that rabbits often possessed, and it was clear the creature couldn’t fight back against the fox.

            The red fox crunched its fangs on the back end of the pika. The rodent squeaked in horror, stretching its front legs out, trying in vain to reach its den, which was only a foot away.

            Watching this…

            Something in me snapped.

            “No!” I shouted.

            The fox’s ears jerked upright and it lifted its head, its eyes wide.

            Despite my exhaustion, I flew into a run, grabbing a rock as I went, clearing the plateau in just a few seconds. The fox barely knew what was happening when I barreled down on it, striking it hard in the head with a rock.

            “Leave it alone!” I shouted.

            The fox screeched, dropped the pika, and then leapt away from me as fast as possible. With panicked movements, the fox dove behind a large rock and basically vanished.

            I took in heavy breaths, my hands shaking. Something about the scene had disturbed me.

            The poor pika. It was defenseless. But the fox didn’t care. The fox had ravaged its home and had come for its life.

            Just like how the chain-ritter had come to kill us.

            I gulped down air as I knelt next to the pika. Blood poured from the fang wounds across its tiny body. The little rodent was already dead, its body growing cold right in front of my eyes.

            This, too, broke me.

            More tears streamed down my face, my lip quavering. I picked up the pika and held it close. It hadn’t stood a chance. The fox was too big and powerful and dangerous. What was the pika supposed to do? Build walls around its den?

            Was that all it could do?

            The smell of blood told me the chain-ritter was close long before I heard the clank of its metal body. I slowly stood and turned around, only to find the monster standing just three feet from me, its hideous body looming, its hole-helmet staring.

            “Why does this happen?” I whispered, holding up the pika’s body. “Why is there so much suffering in the world?”

            “It is the way of nature,” the chain-ritter replied, its voice just as rusted as its body, its tone dark, its words precise.

            I caught my breath, my eyes widening.

            It could… speak? I hadn’t known. I hadn’t thought it possible.

            The chain-ritter took the pika from my hands, its gauntleted fingers never actually touching my skin. It plucked the rodent up by its fur and then slowly slid it through the hole in its helmet. The tiny creature fell into the torso of the monster and landed with a wet thud, as though plunking down onto a fleshy pile.

            “It isn’t f-fair,” I breathed.

            “Only one force in the universe is fair,” the chain-ritter said. “And its name is death.”

            Wiping fresh tears from my face with the back of my arm, I shook my head. “No. It sh-shouldn’t be like that. Terrible things shouldn’t be allowed to… to exist.”

            The chain-ritter reached out its gauntlet and hooked its knife-fingers into my tunic. With a yank, it brought me close, the fabric slightly tearing, my whole body quaking.

            “You’re too weak to do anything about it,” the chain-ritter whispered. “So go back to your village, grow old, and breed a whole clan of fat, stupid children who will one day stumble out in to the woods for me to consume.”

            The chain-ritter shoved me backward. I was too tired to find my footing. I just hit the ground, my breaths shallow, my chest tight.

            The monster turned, obviously ready to leave, ready to continue on whatever journey it was on.

            But I forced myself to my feet, fueled by unmitigated rage. “No,” I said, my voice steady even if my legs weren’t. “No. I don’t want to be weak. I want the strength to change things.”

            The chain-ritter stopped mid-turn. When it returned its haunting gaze to me, I wondered if it would finally kill me.

            But when it didn’t move, I stood a bit straighter, my resolve set.

            “I want… to be strong. Strong enough to… to kill you. To fight monsters that come to hurt the weak. To change things.”

            The chain-ritter didn’t reply.

            “How did…” I gulped down more air and mustered the last of my courage. “How did you become this? Where do chain-ritters get their foul power? If you can have it, so can I.”

            “You want things not meant for humans,” the chain-ritter said. “Suffering comes from craving what you can never have—a torment born in the void between desire and ability. You don’t have what it takes.”

            “I have the ability,” I shouted at it. “If magic fuels you, I can acquire magic. If it’s a curse, I’ll have that, too. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll find the power I need. I’ll become strong. That’s what humans do! They a-adapt. They make things. I’ll destroy you, and every chain-ritter like you, because I’ll find a way no matter what!”

            “The path to power is a hellscape, for every ambitious being wants to be at the top—to avoid the very fate of the pika you just witnessed.”

            I shook my head. “If it’s a hellscape, then it’s a hellscape. I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes.” I swallowed and then realized what I truly wanted. “Show me. Teach me how to get this power. Take me to the places I need to go.”

            The chain-ritter said nothing, its void-stare pinning me in place.

            “You want me… to show you how to develop the power to kill me?” the chain-ritter finally asked.

            I nodded once. That was what I wanted. What I needed.

            The monster laughed then, and it was a sound to unmake courage—a hollow, metallic echo that rang through the empty air, mocking and cruel. It raised one gauntlet to the dark void of its helmet, as if stifling its amusement, though the sound escaped like a dirge sung in mockery.

            Finally, it quelled its chortles. “So be it. I will show you the path to power.”

            Relief spilled over me, though it tasted bitter. My breath shuddered as I exhaled. “Thank you.”

            “But if you fail—or worse, if you decide to quit—that will be the moment I end you. Just like I ended your friends.”

            The ice of those words froze me where I stood, colder than any winter’s wind. My breath hitched, sharp as a blade.

            “I understand,” I finally said, my words so quiet I almost didn’t hear them myself. Then, emboldened by what I was to become, I said, “And once I’m strong enough—I’ll rid the world of your kind. Every last one of them. Starting with you.”

            “You can try,” the chain-ritter said, unbothered by my threats. “But first you need to take the power you so desperately desire. Come, little hunter. I have much to show you of the world beyond your simple village.”